


A New Mission

by hjbender



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Ezra Bridger, Canonical Character Death, Family Feels, Gen, Genocide, Hopeful Ending, New Family, Parental Hera Syndulla, Parental Kanan Jarrus, Rescue Missions, The Force, Violence, War, War Crimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27664403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hjbender/pseuds/hjbender
Summary: In 5 BBY, Kanan and Hera are tasked with rescuing Ephraim and Mira Bridger from Lothal. They arrive too late to save them. However, Kanan discovers something hidden in their house: a new mission for him and Hera.
Relationships: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 9
Kudos: 117





	A New Mission

Kanan charges up the ramp, boots pounding on the metal, blaster fire slamming into the _Ghost’s_ reinforced hull. At this point he doesn’t even bother trying to fire back. He just wants to get to safety. There’s a fibercore box underneath his left arm. An incessant wail rises from within.

He throws himself into the cargo bay and slaps the button that retracts the ramp and seals the hold. Hera is already lifting off as he bawls, “Punch it, _punch it_!” 

She adds a bit more speed, reaches altitude, engages the thrusters and blasts off, leaving behind the burning, smoking capital of Lothal.

The moment they break orbit an Imperial Cruiser appears on their starboard side. It’s closing in fast. Hera pulls the controls to port and begins taking evasive maneuvers. The _Ghost_ banks high and takes a glancing volley from a laser cannon along her starboard flank, the metal blistering open to reveal a tangle of hydraulics.

Chopper emits a series of exclamatory beeps.

“I know, I know!” Hera barks. “Check the fuel pressure first, then run diagnostics!”

Another hail of blips and squeals.

“Because if they hit a fuel line, we won’t last _long enough_ for you to run diagnostics! Now go!”

Chopper chirps an affirmative and speeds over to the relay panel in the rear of the cockpit.

Sensors and warnings flash all over the control console. Hera clenches her teeth and dodges another hail of laser fire. 

_Fuel pressure normal!_ Chopper bleats.

Hera points the nose of her ship straight up and gives her all the power she has. The _Ghost_ blazes past the Cruiser and disappears beyond Lothal’s thermosphere. Once they are in the clear, Hera taps in a set of coordinates and pulls the stick. The _Ghost_ shoots into hyperspace. Now the only sound is the quiet hum of the ship around them.

And a shrill screeching from somewhere down below.

She engages the autopilot and goes below to see just how bad Kanan is hurt.

He’s injured, she discovers, but he isn’t the one making the noise.

Kanan Jarrus is sitting on the floor of the cargo bay, his shirt covered in soot, threads of hair coming loose from his ponytail. His boots are caked with mud. He has a cut somewhere on his scalp; a swath of blood has been painted down the right side of his face. It’s smudged where he had tried to wipe it away. He’s still trying to catch his breath. His blaster lies beside him as if he had carelessly tossed it there. It isn’t like Kanan to mistreat his weapons. He’s staring down at the box between his knees, a dazed, almost heartbroken look on his face. Something in it is moving.

Hera approaches and crouches down beside him. “Are you okay?” she asks, touching his jaw to turn his face toward hers. 

“I’m fine,” he answers. His voice is gravelly from inhaling so much smoke. It can barely be heard above the wailing.

Hera peers into the box and pulls back the silvery heat-proof blanket covering the wriggling bundle.

A baby’s face comes into view, red and twisted. The tiny hands are clenched into fists and waving around furiously. A pair of large blue eyes stare up at her, shining with tears, and a veil of surprisingly thick dark hair covers the top of its head. The child is dirty, streaked with ash and a little bit of Kanan’s blood.

Hera’s heart clenches. “Oh, Kanan,” she murmurs and reaches into the box and gathers up the bundle. She holds the baby against her shoulder and begins to shush it. The blubbering dies to a light whimper. She rubs its back and lays her cheek against the soft, round head.

Kanan can’t help it—an affectionate smile comes to his face.

“What happened down there, Kanan?”

His smile straightens. “I don’t know. Suddenly everything went to hell. I don’t know if it was the civilians or the Imperials who set the fires, but it started right after I reached the rendezvous. The smoke was so thick it was affecting my comm. By then they were already dragging people out of their homes and arresting them.”

Hera shakes her head in disbelief and continues to rub the baby’s back. “This was planned. They had _planned_ to do this.”

“It would seem so. Bastards.” Kanan winces as he stretches his legs out in front of him. “They were separating families. Lining up the men and shooting them. Taking the women and children away. I haven’t seen anything like this since…” 

He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t have to. Hera knows. Order 66, the genocide of the Jedi. He doesn’t talk about it much, even to her.

“And the Bridgers?” she asks.

Kanan lowers his eyes. “Fulcrum was right, they were running the station out of their home. I saw all the transmitters and equipment there. It had already been destroyed. And…” The tendons in his jaw tense, and Hera knows he was trying to suppress his anger. His nostrils flare as he inhales. “They had both been shot. In the head, execution style. The bodies were… mutilated.”

Hera shuts her eyes, presses her lips together tightly. The baby squirms and snivels between her breasts.

Kanan leans over and gently touches the child’s smooth, chubby cheek. “I was just about to leave when I heard this little guy crying. He was hidden in a back room no bigger than your cockpit. I had to break the door down to get to him.”

Hera turns to Kanan with a quizzical look. “But our intel said the Bridgers didn’t have a baby. There’s no census record indicating that Mira was ever pregnant.”

“Would _you_ tell the Empire if we were expecting?”

“Good point.” She looks down at the baby. “So now what?”

Kanan leans back against a crate and shakes his head. “I have no idea.”

Silence falls. The baby whines.

“You said ‘he’. How do you know it’s a boy?”

Another hopelessly sad expression crosses Kanan’s bloody, sweaty face. “He was locked in the nursery. I don’t know how long he had been there. A while, maybe. He’d soiled his nappy so I just took it off, wrapped him in a blanket, and got out. I picked up the box along the way.”

Hera is quiet.

“There was a name hanging on the wall of the nursery. Ezra.”

“Ezra,” Hera repeats. She doesn’t know why, but tears are suddenly blurring her vision. She hugs the child a little closer. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Yeah. I thought so, too.”

After a moment they both look at each other as if they’ve had the same thought.

“Kanan, we can’t take care of a baby,” Hera says. “We’re insurgents. Our life is unpredictable, hazardous even.”

“I know.”

“We’re always on the run. We have no home, no stability. We live on charity and whatever we can steal from the Empire.”

“I know this, too.”

“We can barely take care of our own needs. What hope do we have of taking care of this child?”

Kanan is quiet for a while. “Maybe it’s the same hope we have in trying to help others,” he says at last. “The same hope that the Bridgers had when they started broadcasting their messages across the galaxy. They believed that things would get better, that life would go on. This baby here is proof of that.”

Ezra murmurs against Hera’s shoulder. She strokes the hair on his head. It’s the softest thing she's ever felt, finer than Rylothian silk.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, love. I’m just saying that raising a child on a ship with no school or friends would be… it’s just not practical for us. Or fair to him.”

“I’m not saying we keep him forever. Just… until we can find a family somewhere who will take him. A good family. One that can give him the life that we can’t.”

Hera rolls her eyes. “Hm, sure. And pray we don’t get attached to him in the meantime.”

Kanan smiles. “Yeah, that too.”

Hera smiles back, and for a brief moment the somber mood is lightened. Kanan slides closer until his hip bumps Hera’s. He puts his arm around her waist and looks down at the child in her arms. He strokes the back of one tiny, perfect hand with his finger.

“If we put him with a family on Lothal, he’ll just end up being indoctrinated by the Empire,” he says in a low voice. “The schools have all been taken over.”

“Then we’ll have to take him to another planet.”

“Maybe another system would be better.”

A long stretch of quiet follows.

“There’s no place where he’ll be safe, is there?” Hera finally says. “Short of leaving him with pioneers in the wilderness, where there are no hospitals or schools or… anything.”

A strange expression comes over Kanan’s face then. He touches Ezra’s head and peers into his eyes as if searching for something.

“What? What is it, Kanan?”

“Finding a home for Ezra might be the least of our worries.” He looks up at Hera. “I just remembered something. I didn’t even think about it at the time, I was too concerned with getting through the door, but the room… Hera, it was padded on the inside.”

“Makes sense if they didn’t want the Empire to find out they had a baby.”

“Not just them. _Anyone_. The room was completely soundproof. There’s no way I could have heard this baby crying. Not over all the explosions and blaster fire.”

Hera goes still. “But you _did_ hear him.”

“Yes. I heard…” He swallows dryly. “A cry for help. But not with my ears.”

Ezra begins to whimper again. 

Kanan leans back and drags his hands over his face. 

Hera, her eyes wide with disbelief, begins to shake her head. “No. Kanan, we can’t let him go. Not if he’s Force sensitive. They’ll take him away if they ever found out. They’ll kill him or worse.”

“I know. This makes things a lot more complicated.” He sighs heavily and gives her a defeated look.

Hera turns to him and an unexpected smile comes to her lips. “You just made a mess of your face. Dirt and blood everywhere.”

Kanan manages a weak grin. “I should probably get cleaned up, huh?”

Ezra’s whimpers turn to full-fledged howls. Hera bounces him in her arms but still he carries on.

“He’s probably hungry,” she says. “I know we have some powdered milk on board, but I don’t know what we’re going to use for a bottle.”

“I’ll rig something up. Use a rubber glove or something.”

“Well, you’d better make it fast. He’s starting to get fussy.”

Kanan holds out his arms. “Wanna trade? I hold the baby, you get the bottle?”

“Sounds good. I know where everything is anyway.” She passes Ezra to Kanan. He takes the sobbing child into his arms and begins to rock back and forth, making soft shushing noises.

“Shh, shh, Ezra, it’s okay. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Ezra looks up at him and wibbles, but he’s not crying like he was.

Kanan grins for real this time. “Hey, there. Hey, little man. Little Ezra. You’re a pretty handsome fella underneath all that grime, aren’t you? Yeah, don’t worry, we’re gonna get you some food and a bath and everything will be fine. You’re gonna stay with us for a little while. Think that’ll be okay? Huh?”

Hera pauses at the top of the ladder and looks down. Kanan is smiling like she has never seen him smile before: warm, sparkling, full of care and compassion. One of his fingers is wrapped in Ezra’s tiny fist. He’s stopped crying and is close to smiling himself. He’s toothless and adorable.

“That’s a really good grip you’ve got there. You’re a strong baby.” He lowers his voice. “You know, your parents were strong, too. And brave. We can’t ever replace them, but… we’ll make sure you know all about them. Okay?”

Hera was already fighting tears, but when Kanan lifts his finger and places a kiss on Ezra’s teeny knuckles, a lump rises to her throat. She blinks the tears from her eyes, takes a deep breath and sighs it out. She climbs off the ladder and makes her way to the galley, a giddy urgency to her stride.

She had never been so simultaneously worried and happy in all her life.

Maybe this is how all new parents feel.


End file.
